


Boys Loving Girls

by mandaestella



Category: Alexbelle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaestella/pseuds/mandaestella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas AU in which lawyer Alex, chef Isabelle, writer Jackie, football player Dayo, and grad student Jack go around New York City attending holiday parties and generally causing a lot of chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Loving Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Christmas AU - it is obviously incredibly late because I am a huge procrastinator. So pour yourself some candy cane cocoa and put on some carols and pretend that it's Christmas time while you're reading it (or do the equivalent for whatever holiday you might celebrate). And also pretend that we live in an alternate universe where I actually post things on time and not a month later.
> 
> Mad love to my dear Em (natasharomanvff) as always for being there from the first "oh, hey, so I have a new idea." Thanks for letting me bounce things off you and scream and rant and all of the above. You are lovely.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr if you'd like (catolovesclove). Your comments and messages and kind words mean the world to me. Seriously y'all you have no idea, you give me life. I love you all xx
> 
> Title from Liv It Up (are you even surprised?)

_Nothing to think about, no cares in the world_   
_Just girls loving boys and boys loving girls_

**What: 12 Shots of Christmas NYU Grad School Club Crawl  
** **Where: Space Ibiza, 637 W 50th Street, New York, NY 10019  
** **When: Saturday, December 12, 10:30 P.M.**

“Remind me please why we’re doing this again?”

“Because.” Jackie herded Isabelle into the Uber waiting patiently outside their apartment, following her best friend into the small black Town Car and ducking her head in the process so as to avoid smashing the mass of red curls piled on top of her head. “Jack asked us too.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot.” Isabelle slid across the seat, leaning forward to tell the driver where they were going. As he pulled away from the curb, she craned her neck, trying to look in the rearview mirror to see if her pouf was still in place. “We do everything Jack says now that you’re dating.”

Jackie rolled her eyes, not dignifying that with a response. “We made a pact. There’s five of us, which means five holiday parties, which means five times the amount of free alcohol we get to consume.”

Isabelle shrugged, pulling out her compact. “You’re right. I can get behind that.”

The five of them called themselves the Squad, partly out of irony because it was so obnoxious, but partly because that’s really what they were. Ever since they had all found each other in the city a few years before, they had been inseparable. Jack was a grad student at NYU, his friends throwing the party they were going to tonight. Isabelle was a chef at Craft, the prestigious restaurant owned by Tom Colicchio. Jackie wrote for the New York Times. Alexander was a contract law attorney. Dayo was the left tackle for the New York Giants. They were all very young and very successful, each putting weeks, months, years of work into their dreams.

It was all by chance that they had found each other, each interaction random and serendipitous. Isabelle met Dayo first when he had come into Craft and asked to meet the person who had prepared his dinner. Dayo introduced her to Alex, who handled most of the team’s contracts, hoping the two of them would hit it off and date. They didn’t, but that didn’t stop the three of them from becoming very close friends. Alex brought Jack into the fold, an old friend from undergrad at Columbia University. And Jack found Jackie during an incredibly drunken, mostly unremembered night of pub crawling. That had been three years ago, and they had been together ever since.

The first person Isabelle saw when she got out of the Uber outside of Space was Dayo, of course. He was easy to spot, surrounded by a small mob of adoring fans, guys and girls alike. He looked up as the two girls tumbled out onto the curb, alternately pushing each other away in fits of laughter and then pulling each other close again, determined to stay together in the melee of people. 

“Isabelle!” Dayo yelled over the heads of the people between them. “Jackie! Come here!”

“You come here!” Jackie screeched back. “We can’t get over there!”

Dayo turned around, talking to someone behind him and gesturing towards the girls, who were trying to fight their way through the crowd towards the entrance of Space. Space Ibiza was one of the biggest dance clubs in New York City, and it was where actors and singers and athletes were usually photographed on a normal Friday night. Why Jack’s friends had picked this venue to begin their pub crawl at, Isabelle couldn’t begin to fathom, but she was actually really excited. It had been ages since any of them had been to Space, not wanting to deal with the mass of people.

Jack’s club crawl was the first in a week and a half of the Squad’s work parties. As Jackie had reminded Isabelle in the car on the way there, they had all promised each other they would all attend every party – like Jackie said, free alcohol. That was all it took to get the boys to agree.

A few moments later, someone grabbed Isabelle’s arm and she whipped around, ready to smack someone before she realized it was just Alex. “Hey!” She stretched up on her tiptoes to give her huge blonde best friend a hug and quick peck on the cheek. “How long have you been here?”

“Dayo and I just got here like five minutes ago.” Alex craned his neck around her to kiss Jackie on the cheek, ruffling her hair up just to piss her off. He leaned down to speak directly in Isabelle’s ear, since the noise around them was almost deafening, the people waiting to get in moving in a huge crush towards the door. From what Isabelle could see, everyone was already drunk or halfway to it. “He told me to come get you guys.”

“What a good boy,” Isabelle teased, Alex pulling her close to him on one side, Jackie on the other, and began pushing his way through the crowd towards where Dayo was trying to extricate himself from his adoring fans. 

“Yes, yes, it was nice to meet you all,” Isabelle heard him saying, his polite tone in full effect as he waded out of the mess of people towards them. “Thank God,” he whispered in Isabelle’s ear once he finally reached them. “Let’s get out of this craziness.”

“And inside to the even crazier.”

“Right you are, little Fuhrman. But there’s alcohol in there.”

“You’ve got me there.”

Dayo pushed Isabelle in front of him towards the door of the club, Jackie and Alex pressed up behind them. The bouncer waved them through without even looking at their IDs, something that only happened when Dayo was present – even though Isabelle was closing in on 25, she looked about 18, a fact she was reminded of every time she tried to get into a bar. 

“Holy shit,” Jackie murmured behind her as they pushed forward into Space, the huge expanse of the club rising up around them. It was incredibly dark, the only light coming from the strobes and spotlights bouncing around the dance floor, which was already packed with pulsing, moving bodies even though it was only eleven o’clock. Cold fog swirled around their ankles as Dayo pulled them forward in the direction of the upstairs bar.

Everyone parted for Dayo, people looking up at him in awe. Even if he weren’t famous, he would still be a commanding presence, standing head and shoulders above everyone but Alex. He got their drinks in record time, passing them in an assembly line behind him so they could gather around a deserted high top. “Cheers!” He held out his double tequila shot, the rest of them clinking their glasses against his before tapping them on the tabletop and slamming them back.

Isabelle’s Fireball went immediately to her stomach, burning comfortingly on its way down. Dayo immediately replaced it with another shot and then another until Isabelle was four shots in and feeling it. Count on Dayo to remember her motto – get drunk fast so she could dance until last call. 

“You guys!” They heard an overeager, definitely drunk voice behind them, and Isabelle turned around to see Jack descending on them, a pack of his grad school friends trailing along behind him, parting the crowd in their wake. “When did you get here?”

“About four shots ago,” Isabelle said, smiling up at him as he draped himself across her back. “I feel like it has been considerably longer for you.”

“Considerably.” Jack cocked his head at her. “That’s a big word for such a little person.”

“Get off.” Isabelle pushed at him good naturedly, nudging him towards Jackie and turning around to greet his friends, most of whom she had met before although she couldn’t remember their names to save her life. When she looked back a few moments later, Jackie and Jack were all over each other and she wrinkled her nose, glancing at Dayo and Alex. “Let’s, uh… do a lap?”

They nodded, leaving the lovebirds behind. Isabelle led the way down the stairs, Alex and Dayo trailing close behind her. They had been out together so much that they had a pretty good system down – they would order a few drinks, get sufficiently toasted, and then hit the dance floor where Alex and Dayo would point out girls they thought were hot, sending Isabelle over to them to bring them back for the guys. In return they kept her safe from the jackasses circling about – one look from either of them was enough to send most guys running, and if they didn’t, well, it never hurt Dayo or Alex to get a little physical, muscling them out of the club while Isabelle smirked in the background. 

“So,” Isabelle yelled to the two men behind her as they wiggled onto the dance floor. “Who do you want tonight?”

The guys surveyed the dance floor, Dayo eventually pointing to a tall girl with blonde hair, surrounded by a bunch of other girls and laughing hysterically. “That one.”

Isabelle shrugged, leaving the guys behind to carry out her official duties as a wing woman. She pushed closer to the group of girls, eventually getting close enough to say, “Oh my God, your shoes! I love them.” The tall girl turned to look at her, a huge smile lighting up her face. She really was gorgeous – Dayo actually did have good taste. “Where did you get them?”

The girl looked down, as if to remind herself which shoes she had on. She had a glass gripped in one hand, but seemed surprisingly sober compared to the rest of her friends. “Thank you!” She frowned slightly. “To be honest, I don’t really remember.” She looked back up at Isabelle. “Sorry I can’t help, but I’m Jen.”

Isabelle’s tactics weren’t always that original, but they were almost always effective. Soon enough, Jen and her friends were following Isabelle back over to the guys, introducing themselves and crowding around Dayo. One of the girls, just as tall as Jen with long blonde hair, sidled up next to Alex, leaning close to say something into her ear. Isabelle didn’t remember what her name was – it started with an L, maybe – but she figured her job here was done.

She was dancing with one of the girls who had followed Jen over when she was practically yanked off her feet. She was about to yell for Alex before she realized it was Alex who was doing the yanking. She glared up at him. “Do you need something?”

He leaned down towards her, their height difference only compounded by the fact that it was way too loud to hear anything lower than a scream. “Isn’t that your ex over there? No, don’t look now. No, don’t. Okay… now, look now.”

Isabelle glanced over her shoulder quickly, trying to get a good look without drawing a lot of attention to herself. And sure enough, directly behind her, her douchebag ex was with his friends, looking around the club clearly trying to decide who they were going to pull. That was the problem Isabelle always had with him – they had been together for almost a year when Isabelle noticed he was coming home late with the stink of unfamiliar perfume clinging to his jacket and his phone always, always, always locked. The last straw had been just three months before, when Alex, Dayo, and Jack had been out for a lads night and had drunkenly snapchatted Isabelle pictures of her boyfriend dancing with other girls. The three of them had felt horrible in the morning when they realized what they had done, but Isabelle was finally happy, relieved that she could dump him and move on with her life, finally knowing the truth. 

Since then he had been doing everything he could think of to get her back, leaving her texts and voicemails and flowers at her apartment, all of which were immediately deleted unread or thrown into the trash unwrapped. The last thing Isabelle needed was a dead weight, and there was no better way to describe her ex than useless.

“Wait,” Alex said, still focused on her ex and his group of friends. “Wait, who is he with?”

“Some douchebags probably.” Isabelle rolled her eyes, stumbling closer to Alex as someone bumped her from behind. Over Alex’s shoulder she could see Dayo moving closer to Jen, his hand snaking around her waist, leaning over to speak into her ear. “Alex, why does it matter?” She looked back up at Alex, who had gone disconcertingly pale. “Alex, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t look,” he hissed at her, ducking down to speak as quietly as possible – still basically a yell in this environment. “Do not look, but he is with her.”

Isabelle didn’t have to ask who the Her in question was – she had been Alex’s best friend long enough to know that Her was Alex’s infamous ex. Everyone has one – the one that broke your heart into a million pieces, leaving you behind to mop up the mess. And as soon as it was cleaned up and you started to feel a little bit better, they always came nosing back around, ready to break you again.

When Isabelle had met Alex three years ago, he was as single as one guy could be, having poured all of his energy into law school and getting a good job. They didn’t know back then that he was only a few months away from meeting Her, that he was about to enter a long, tumultuous, two year relationship that ended with Her walking out and Alex in a million pieces. Now, almost nine months later, he was finally the same old Alex again, a little worse for the wear but still funny and happy with as big a heart as ever. 

“Alex, look at me.” Isabelle reached up, tapping him on the chin, the only part of him she could really reach. “Hey.”

Alex focused down on her, a spark of something flashing in his eyes – anger, maybe. “What?”

“Forget about her. Seriously. Don’t let her ruin a good night.”

“I’m not letting her ruin it. It’s just – oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“What?”

“Shit.”

Isabelle could tell just looking at Alex’s face that there was about to be a confrontation. Alex had only come face-to-face with his ex once at a bar in uptown New York, and it had not ended well, with Alex being kicked out after drowning himself in vodka Red Bulls. It had taken the rest of the Squad days to put him back together, and Isabelle wasn’t sure whether or not she could do that again.

“I have to talk to her, right?” Alex was muttering to himself. Isabelle could only pick out random words, but she knew him well enough to know that he was about to be an idiot. “I have to say something, it would be rude if I didn’t.”

“Alex.”

“I mean, it looks like she’s here alone, right? So maybe I can buy her a drink.”

“Alex!”

Isabelle could feel someone coming up behind them, and judging by the increasing panic written all over Alex’s face, it was Her. So she did the only thing she could think of to do, fueled by alcohol and a desire to never see Alex crying on the floor of her bathroom again – she grabbed Alex by the collar of his soft, gray, probably very expensive t-shirt (something she was sure she would get yelled at for later), and dragged him down to her level, slipping one arm behind his neck as soon as she could reach, holding him in place. He was in the middle of what was probably a protest when she attached her mouth to his, kissing him in as showy a manner as possible.

To Alex’s credit, he only seemed surprised for the first couple of seconds before he relaxed a little, kissing her back and snaking one arm around her waist to pull her closer. She flattened her free hand on his chest, trapped between them, and she could feel his heart beating under her fingers as he bit her lip and swiped his tongue over her bottom teeth. Isabelle felt Her brush past them, not saying a word but knocking into Isabelle, pushing her and Alex back a few steps.

Alex pulled away at the jolt, taking a deep breath and resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you, Belle,” he whispered, and she heard him perfectly even with the music pounding around them.

“Anytime.” She stepped back, grinning, and turned away, grabbing him by the hand to push through the crowd of people and find the rest of the Squad, determined to keep Alex from spending the rest of the night looking for Her.

It was hours and hours later before they all finally collapsed through the door of Dayo’s loft. Jack and Jackie disappeared to the guest bedroom almost immediately, locking the door behind them to groans of the other three. Isabelle fell asleep in Dayo’s bed, in between her two boys, and as she rolled over, snuggling up to Alex’s side, he curled his arm around her in his sleep. She looked up at him, his face lit up in the moonlight coming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Isabelle always yelled at Dayo for those stupid windows, telling him that it was impossible to fall asleep with the moonlight coming in and blinding you and even more impossible to stay asleep as soon as the sun rose. But now the light was soft, making Alex look a lot younger than he was. And as she lay there looking at him, she promised herself she would do whatever it took to keep him from getting hurt again.

**What: Craft’s Christmas Dinner by Chef Tom Colicchio  
** **Where: Craft, 43 East 19th Street, New York, NY 10003  
** **When: Monday, December 14, 7:00 P.M.**

The Squad had drastically different work schedules, which meant they were always hanging out at weird times, catching up late on Tuesday nights or way too early on Sunday mornings. Jackie and Alex kept normal work hours, although Alex basically worked twenty-four seven and was permanently attached to his cell phone. When Dayo was in season, he was constantly at the gym, at practice, in meetings, or traveling for games. Jack slept all day and went to class at night, pulling all nighters studying or cramming for exams. And Isabelle’s schedule was the most unpredictable – she was at the restaurant constantly, working at least one shift every day of the week.

So it was unusual seeing the entire Squad at Craft – normally she would be calling them to come over after a twelve-hour day, just so they could hang out at her tiny apartment while she finally sat down, usually falling asleep sprawled out across her living room. It actually made Isabelle a little nervous, if she was being honest. Sure, Dayo ate here sometimes, and Alex was actually here quite a lot whenever he had a client lunch, but all four of them at once and all together was a lot to take. 

The Craft Christmas Dinner was a big deal, and it was one of Isabelle’s favorite things about working at Craft. She had first met Tom Colicchio a year and a half ago when she was a competitor on the fine dining reality show Top Chef – she hadn’t won, but she had made it to the finale, and Chef Colicchio had liked her food and her style enough to immediately hire her after the show was over. She had been there for a little over a year, and although this was her second Christmas dinner, it was the first one she had brought all her friends to.

They were a handful most of the time, to say the least, and even though she had warned them under pain of death to be on their best behavior, this was no exception.

“But I don’t wanna,” Alex had whined an hour earlier as Isabelle supervised the getting ready process, knowing that left to their own devices Alex and Dayo would show up in sweats and football jerseys. Thankfully, Jackie could get Jack to do whatever she said, so at least Isabelle didn’t have a third hooligan to worry about.

“I don’t really care what you want.” Isabelle shook the hanger she was holding in Alex’s direction, urging him to take it. “My night, my party.”

Alex groaned, finally grabbing it from her and surveying the button down with disdain. “But I dress up every day for work.”

“This is me, still not caring. Now change, I don’t want to be late.”

Alex just stared at her. “Then get out.”

She just rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Well, that’s grossly misleading.”

“You know what I mean.” And she wasn’t wrong technically. The two had been friends for long enough and spent enough nights crashing at each other’s apartments that there had been some awkward moments stemming from the fact that Alex never ever locked a door behind him. “Change. Now.”

Alex rolled his eyes back, turning around and trying to wedge himself into the closet while simultaneously stripping down. Isabelle turned her attention to Dayo, who was attempting to make a break for it. He had at least a hundred and twenty-five pounds on her, but she somehow managed to drag him back into Alex’s room and force him into a suit. 

And now they were seated at one of the round tables under the massive expanse of Craft’s lantern-lit ceiling, Chef Colicchio standing at the front of the room, explaining the food they were about to eat. Alex was fidgeting in his chair next to Isabelle, and she had to refrain herself from kicking him in the shin with the very pointy heel of her shoe. He stuck his tongue out at her when he caught him looking at her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Soon white coated, red bow tied waiters were bringing out plates and plates of food. Appetizers and small plates first, beef carpaccio with fried capers and shiitake broth, seared scallops with purslane and marinated grapes, a watermelon and tomato trio. Then the entrees – roasted lamb medallions with maitake mushrooms and blackberry, pork chops with an apple fennel salad, sous-vide duck with truffle scented broth, trout and salmon with lemon thyme crème sauce and basil oil. And then the desserts, the boys bouncing up and down in their seats as they saw the waiters approaching. Isabelle was pretty sure that Alex and Dayo alone made their way through every single plate: banana scallops with chocolate ice cream, a blini with Kona coffee caviar and Hawaiian chocolate mousse, a molten chocolate cake with vanilla crème fraiche and raspberry coulis, and a trio of tarts. She wasn’t sure how they made it without throwing up, but make it they did. 

As she looked around at her friends, Alex and Dayo fighting over the last banana scallop (Isabelle’s signature dessert, in fact) while Jackie and Jack grinned at each other like the lovesick, brand new couple that they were, she was overcome with an unbelievable amount of gratitude. Call it hormones, call it Christmas spirit – whatever it was, she was prone to it. The only thing she wasn’t grateful for was—

“Hey, Izzy.”

The voice came from behind her, prompting her to immediately squish up her face in disgust and Alex to mouth “Izzy?” at her. She shook her head at him slightly, turning around to face the source of the trouble.

“Hey, Henry.” She sighed. “What’s up?”

Her friends quickly exchanged looks, and Alex pulled his phone out under the edge of the table, leaning back to see the screen as he typed. Isabelle was sure he was furiously texting Jackie, who could (and would) fill him in on the exploits of Isabelle and Henry. There was a reason she hadn’t mentioned anything to the boys – she knew that they would make fun of her mercilessly.

She had met Henry the first day she had started at Craft, Chef Colicchio assigning her to shadow him until she got her bearings. He was the fish cook at Craft, a prestigious position in such a New American atmosphere, and although he was a phenomenal chef, he was a prick. He’d been following Isabelle around for about a year now, constantly asking her out and ignoring the fact that she made it clear she found him completely insufferable.

Henry pulled out the empty chair beside Isabelle, sitting down and leaning over to swipe a leftover piece of tart off her plate, like he had any right to do so. Alex snorted, looking down at his phone, and Isabelle could only guess Jackie had filled him in. She braced herself for an onslaught of teasing from the boys.

“So you’re coming to the New Year’s Eve party with me, right?”

Notwithstanding the fact that New Year’s Eve was two weeks away, he had been asking her that same question for a few days now, and was met with the same answer every time – a solid, resounding no. That did not seem to deter him.

“I, uh—”

Isabelle couldn’t even glance to her right, her face burning, knowing that Alex and Dayo were probably dying to say something. Chef Colicchio came by at that exact moment, saving Isabelle from a very awkward rejection.

“How are you guys doing? How was everything?” He put his hand on the back of Isabelle’s chair, addressing her table.

Everyone nodded their approval, Alex and Dayo immediately describing every dessert they ate in massive detail, apparently forgetting for the moment that Chef Colicchio knew the menu by heart. “Very good, Chef,” Isabelle murmured, willing Henry to go away. As soon as he left their table, Henry leaned in again.

“So? What do you say?”

Isabelle felt Alex’s arm go across the back of her chair and he leaned forward, closer to Henry and right next to Isabelle’s cheek.

“How come you didn’t tell me we have a party to go to?” he asked innocently, blinking at her. She just stared at him, mouth slightly open, and then glanced over at Jackie and Jack, who looked just as confused as she felt.

“Uh… I…”

“You see,” Alex said, addressing Henry, “I’ve been begging her for weeks to come up with something to do on New Year’s, you know, since it’s our first one spent together as a couple. But this little muffin—” He pinched her cheek – boy, would he pay for that later. “—Just wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”

For the first time in the year she had known him, Henry was at a loss for words, even more so than Isabelle was. “I… what? Is, who is this?”

“This is Alex,” she managed to stammer out. “He’s… uh…”

“Her boyfriend.” Alex extended the hand that was not currently stroking Isabelle’s arm. “And you are?”

“Leaving,” Henry muttered, standing up and walking away without a backwards glance. As soon as he was out of earshot, Dayo burst into hysterical laughter.

“What the fuck was that?” Isabelle whirled around, pushing Alex away from her. He just grinned.

“I owed you, Little One, didn’t I?”

“You guys…” Dayo managed to spit out in between gasps of laughter. “You guys would be the worst couple ever.”

“The worst,” Jackie agreed, taking a sip of her wine.

Thirty minutes later, the five of them found themselves at the rooftop bar across the street, surrounded by fairy lights and surprisingly warm for the middle of December, considering the heaters that were scattered around the patio, making it seem like they were actually drinking indoors. “So who was that guy really?” Alex asked as Jackie and Jack stood up to get another round, Dayo long since disappeared.

She rolled her eyes, taking a swig of whiskey and water. Alex always yelled at her for drinking it, telling her it was disgusting and if she was drinking just to get drunk, she should stick to beer. “He’s my Hannah.”

Alex winced. “Low blow.”

Alex had a work stalker too, a girl named Hannah who was actually his paralegal. Even though she had never blatantly asked him out like Henry did with Isabelle, she followed him around, making heart eyes at him and generally causing misery. Alex spent a lot of his time moaning and groaning about her to Isabelle.

“Maybe we should set them up. It would sure fix a lot of my problems.”

“Mine too.” Alex drained his Captain and Coke, stretching his legs out across Isabelle’s lap. He had long since abandoned any formality she had forced on him at the beginning of the night, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoning his top three buttons. He reached across the table, grabbing her whiskey and taking a huge gulp, wincing as he did so.

“Thanks for what you did tonight.” Isabelle shifted under his weight, trying to pull her dress down a little where it was riding up. 

“I told you.” He took another gulp, slamming the glass down on the table in disgust. “I owed you. For what you did at Space.”

“You don’t owe me. It’s what friends do.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Isabelle snorted, tipping her head back and laughing, pushing Alex away lightly. “How are you doing after that whole episode?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking that you’re a great kisser.”

“Shut up. I mean, for real.”

Alex was quiet for a few moments, turning a coaster over and over in his hands like he didn’t really know how to answer her question. “It’s… you know. Same old.”

“Which means?”

He took a deep breath, leaning forward, the firelight glinting off his eyes as he spoke. “Well, it’s not like I could ever be with her again. I don’t want to, for one, and for two we might actually end up killing each other. There’s not a future there.”

“But?” He was way too easy to read.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I would say to her if I ever had the chance to. All the things I never did when we were together.”

“Like what? Come on, pretend I’m her.”

“Like, you’re a bitch.” Isabelle let out a laugh. “And I should’ve known you were trouble when you tried to drunkenly hook up with my brother at family Thanksgiving. And I wasted a ridiculous amount of time on you and I can’t believe I ever thought about marrying you.”

“Let it out, babe.”

“Let’s be real.” Alex pushed her drink towards her, silently urging her to drink up. They had been friends for so long that they barely had to speak to understand what the other was thinking – it was detrimental at times, usually for Isabelle when she had a secret. “You are nothing like her and you know it.”

“Hey, I can be a bitch.”

“You are the farthest thing from a bitch. Cut it out.”

“So why didn’t you say all that when we saw her?”

Alex sighed, one of the huge, world-weary sighs she had come to associate with him whenever they were talking about Her. If Isabelle hadn’t seen Alex go through the horror of that relationship, she would think he was exaggerating but he really wasn’t – it was the kind of relationship that would make an onlooker, any onlooker, never want a relationship ever again. For two years, Alex had been smack in the thick of it – late night fights, early morning make-ups, and a breakup every few months like clockwork. Isabelle had seen it all, fielding his angry, rambling texts and depressed phone calls, nursing him back to health every time She walked away with a suitcase full of clothes and threats of never returning. And Isabelle kept her thoughts to herself because she knew they wouldn’t do him any good anyways, wouldn’t do anyone any good for that matter. Jackie and Jack and Dayo suffered through it with them, the four of them meeting behind Alex’s back multiple times to plan an intervention, one that they never followed through on.

Isabelle had her own list of horror stories involving Her, ones that she reminded Alex of after the last and final break up, in an attempt to cheer him up. Once, just a few weeks after Isabelle’s season of Top Chef had aired and she had started at Craft, she had showed up at Alex’s loft in the middle of the night after a long, exhausting, entirely too unpredictable dinner shift, crying about how she had undercooked the scallops and overcooked the fish and was probably going to get fired.

Alex, being Alex, invited her in, sat her on the couch, and made her warm milk, which was all too disgusting but she drank anyways. And he sat with her for an hour, telling her that she was talented and that she deserved to be there, no matter what the voice in her head said.

“You are a lone reed,” he told her, “standing tall, waving boldly in the corrupt sands of commerce.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” She hiccupped, clutching Alex’s favorite Columbia Law mug between her hands.

“It’s from You’ve Got Mail. God, Isabelle, you have no sense of culture. And anyways, it’s the sentiment behind the words that matters.”

“Which is?”

“You’re fucking awesome.” He shrugged. “But I quoted it so that it would seem more eloquent. You know I’m not good with the words putting together into sentences thing.”

“You’re a lawyer.”

“Also known as a bullshitter. And that’s why you love me.”

Isabelle ended up falling asleep on Alex’s couch in between sobs of self doubt and pronouncements that she sucked and would never own her own restaurant. It was a great bout of misfortune, and nothing more, that caused Alex to fall asleep next to her, stretched out with his arm around her, no alarm set and the TV still on.

The next morning was a little less peaceful as Isabelle was woken up by screams from the kitchen – screams that were directed at a very quiet Alex. In all the years she had known him, Alex was the first person to say how he felt, whether or not his opinion was wanted. But when it came to Her, he was silent, always silent. 

In the end the whole situation culminated in a break up, Isabelle feeling absolutely horrible and assuring Alex that it was a mistake and she was so sorry. Of course inwardly, she – and the rest of them, for that matter – was hoping that it would be the end of everything, the straw that broke the camel’s back. But it was an exceptionally strong camel, and Alex was back to being happily miserable and no longer single in just a few weeks. 

“Well.” Isabelle was drawn back to the present as Alex finally began an answer to her question. “I wanted to. And I could have. But every time I see her I just… I don’t know, I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach like I could literally throw up on her. And I don’t think that would punctuate my point all that well.”

“Probably not.” Isabelle let it drop, not wanting Alex’s mood to shift from cheerfully buzzed to morosely melancholic. And later that night, as she was lying in bed next to him, pushing him away every time he sleepily shifted closer to her, she decided that somehow, some way, she would engineer a chance for Alex to finally say everything he was thinking.

**What: The New York Giants Holiday Extravaganza  
** **Where: The Plaza Hotel, 768 5th Avenue, New York, NY 10019  
** **When: Friday, December 18, 8:00 P.M.**

There were a lot of perks to Dayo being a professional football player – season tickets on the fifty-yard line, flying first class whenever they went somewhere, getting to meet people they never in a million years could have imagined meeting. But the best part, in Isabelle’s opinion, was the Giants holiday party.

The Squad had been going for years now, ever since they had met Dayo. It was always at the Plaza hotel, arguably the most famous hotel in New York City. There was always a load of gorgeous football players wandering around, slightly sloshed and way too friendly. And – Isabelle’s favorite part – the food: tons and tons upon gourmet food. 

This year did not disappoint.

Isabelle and Jackie had spent hours getting ready, Isabelle crossing the hallway to Jackie’s room with basically every outfit she owned in tow. Dress code was “couture,” which Jackie also described as “expensive fancy.” Considering Isabelle was a chef and Jackie was a beat writer, their budget was limited, but they were practically professionals at stretching their wardrobes across all occasions.

“So did you know Dayo is bringing a girl?”

Isabelle looked up at Jackie in shock, catching her eye in the mirror and smudging eyeliner across her cheek. “Fuck.” She grabbed a makeup wipe, spinning around to look at Jackie. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, some girl he met at Ibiza the night of Jack’s party.”

Isabelle rubbed at her cheek with the wipe, grateful she hadn’t put foundation on yet. “Yeah, yeah, I know her!”

Jackie leaned forward, grabbing the makeup wipe from Isabelle with one hand and holding onto her chin with the other, wiping off the last of the rogue eyeliner. “Is she cool?”

“I don’t remember. I was trying to keep Alex from having a nervous breakdown at the time.”

“Oh yeah, by making out with him.”

Isabelle grabbed the makeup wipe back from Jackie, throwing it in the trashcan next to her desk. “Let it go already.” She rolled her eyes at her best friend, giving her enough of a smile in the process to let her know that she was joking.

Isabelle had told Jackie what had happened the night of Jack’s party almost immediately the next day, calling her from Dayo’s kitchen. “What happened to you?” Jackie hissed as soon as she picked up the phone. “We lost you like ten minutes in!”

“You’ll never guess how my night went,” Isabelle whispered, puttering around the kitchen and doing her best to stay completely silent, not wanting to wake the boys up and risk their Sunday morning wrath. She grabbed a coffee cup from the wall where they were hanging and set about making herself a cup of tea. “Guess who I saw.”

It wasn’t a question, but Jackie immediately started listing names ranging from Chris Pratt to Dana Linn Bailey to one of the Backstreet Boys. Finally Isabelle managed to shut her up by saying, quite simply, “No. I saw Her.”

It was effective, rendering Jackie speechless for a full fifteen seconds before she exploded. “What, are you serious? Did she say anything? Did she see you? Oh my God, did Alex see her?”

“No, yes, and yes.” Isabelle quickly laid out the entire situation, from Alex spotting her to his near brush with disaster to how Isabelle managed to solve that.

“Ew.” Isabelle could practically hear Jackie wrinkling her nose over the phone. “You kissed him?”

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“Um, I don’t know, anything but that.”

“You know Her. She’s terrifying. I’d like to see you come up with a better answer in a horror movie situation like that.”

And Jackie mainly left it at that, throwing in a few jokes at Isabelle in the days to come. It was all in good fun, and Isabelle didn’t mind, but she had to warn Jackie a few times not to say anything in front of Alex.

“C’mon,” Isabelle said now, dusting translucent powder over her face to set her makeup in place. “We’re gonna be late.”

Thirty minutes later they were walking into the top floor ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, the New York City skyline lit up and twinkling around them. Isabelle looked around, trying to see if she could spot the boys anywhere, but this was one of the situations where they did not stick out. Every guy in the room was big and tall, dressed to the nines, and circling the room in packs.

Jackie poked Isabelle in the side, whispering in her ear. “They aren’t here yet.”

“What?” Isabelle turned to her. It was definitely too late to go back down to the lobby and wait for them, but that was an option Isabelle was definitely wishing they could take as they looked around, football players swarming around and – oh yep, heading their way. 

Jackie eased herself behind Isabelle slightly. “I’m gonna… ah, go down and meet them?”

“Wait,” Isabelle hissed, grabbing her arm a little too late as Jackie slipped out of her grip, disappearing behind her and out to the elevators. She turned around to follow, but didn’t quite make it in time, a huge football player she recognized from the games making his way up to her. 

“Hey,” he said, holding a wine glass out to her. “Thought you could use this.”

She took it from him, looking up, up, up as she did so. God, he was tall. “I seem that out of place, huh?”

He smiled, and she noticed how cute he actually was – tall, blonde hair, defined jawline. Not unlike Alex, if she was being honest with herself. Isabelle frowned slightly, trying to swat that thought out of her head as quickly as it came. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, taking a sip of his own drink. “Nah, I just wanted an excuse to come over here.”

Isabelle blushed slightly, looking down at her dress which seemed a little too short, heels a little too high now that she was completely on her own. Damn her friends. “I’m Isabelle.” She held out her hand.

“Ryan,” he said, taking her hand in his and engulfing it completely. “Who do you know here?”

“Uh, Dayo.” She looked around, hoping one of her friends might appear quickly and save her from being completely awkward. 

“Oh, yeah! He’s my left tackle.”

It suddenly dawned on Isabelle who exactly she was talking to. “Oh, you’re that Ryan. You’re the…”

“Quarterback, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the tips of his shiny black shoes as if he was slightly embarrassed. “Or backup quarterback, that is.”

This was Ryan Nassib standing in front of Isabelle right now. 25 years old, former Syracuse player, drafted in the fourth round a couple of years ago, and playing second fiddle to Eli Manning, a living legend of American football. The only reason Isabelle knew all of this was Dayo, who as left tackle protected the quarterback, worked with the quarterback, played for the quarterback. She was glad now that she had spent all that time listening to him talk to himself, most of that information sinking in somehow. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, trying to get her racing mind somehow under control.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Such a gentleman. “Do you want to come with me and… uh… well, you have a drink so not go get a drink…”

She interrupted his babbling, putting her glass of half-drunk wine down on a passing waiter’s tray. “I’d love to.”

Isabelle was having such a good time with Ryan, in fact, that she didn’t notice that it had been twenty minutes since she had gotten there and her friends were still nowhere to be found. Until, of course, they showed up like a whirlwind behind her, sweeping into the room and cutting a swath in their wake as they trailed in the smell of cologne and winter and a slight hint of smoke.

“Little Fuhrman!” Dayo grabbed her from behind. “I see you’ve met Ryan!”

She turned around, Ryan quickly swiping her champagne flute out of her hand as it wobbled dangerously, Dayo sweeping her upwards in a hug. “It’s about time,” she muttered in his ear. “I’ve been waiting her alone for forever.”

“Doesn’t seem much like you’re alone,” he muttered back, kissing her cheek before depositing her on the ground, Ryan catching her elbow as she stumbled in her heels.

“I’m really not as drunk as I seem, I promise,” Isabelle assured him, his eyes catching the light from the chandeliers as he laughed, bumping Dayo’s fist behind her. Jackie appeared next to Isabelle, cheerily introducing herself and Jack to Ryan like she hadn’t thrown Isabelle to the wolves a half an hour before. 

Which meant that the only one still missing was…

“Hey.” Alex appeared behind her, smiling down at her in his tux. “You look good.”

“You look good,” Isabelle returned, vaguely aware of Ryan’s presence, his arm still warm against hers. He reached around, offering a hand to Alex. 

“Holy shit, you’re Ryan Nassib.”

Ryan laughed that easy-going laugh that Isabelle was already starting to associate with him. “Trust me, there’s no holy shit about it.” 

“Well, thanks for taking care of Isabelle here while we were on our way.” Alex draped his arm around her shoulder, the way he always did, practically dwarfing her in his shadow. As Isabelle was standing between them, the two men practically mirror images of each other, she caught Jackie’s eye, her best friend looking at her with a slight wrinkle in her forehead, a trace of confusion on her face. Isabelle cocked her head to the side almost imperceptibly, trying to figure out what Jackie was trying to tell her and giving up a few seconds later when Jackie turned to Jack.

It was then that she spotted Jen standing behind Dayo, looking around a little nervously, and Isabelle excused herself from the two boys to go talk to her. An hour later they were seated on one of the big, soft sofas by the wall of windows, still talking. Turns out Jen was actually very cool, now that Isabelle was meeting her sober for the first time – she worked in PR, had a dog who she had adopted from a shelter and was beyond obsessed with, had been living in New York for about six months, and was completely head over heels for Dayo, from what Isabelle could tell. Which was all too good because Dayo had never, in the few years that Isabelle had known him, ever been this stupid over a girl.

Ryan was on Isabelle’s right, supplying her with constant food and drink and witty conversation, his hand firmly planted on her knee. He had stuck close to her ever since her friends had gotten there, and she was happy to find that the more he talked, the more she liked him. 

Jackie and Jack were sitting on the sofa across from them, completely obsessed with each other, Dayo next to them and grinning happily across at Jen. Alex was nowhere to be seen – and now that Isabelle thought about it, she realized that she hadn’t seen him in about an hour, since he had gotten there.

She waited until Jen finished up a story about the last time she had been in Hawaii for a project before she stood up and excused herself. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She looked down at Ryan and he smiled up at her encouragingly.

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

Dayo slipped in to take her place as she walked away, looking back over her shoulder. Three – two – one.

Right on schedule, Jackie was running up behind her, skidding a little in her heels and grabbing onto Isabelle for support. “What’s up?”

“What’s up with you?” 

Jackie sighed her god-Isabelle-why-are-you-being-so-dumb sigh, one that Isabelle had heard on more than a few occasions. “Seriously?”

“Seriously what? I’m just going to go find—”

“Alex, I know. You know he’s pissed at you.”

Isabelle stopped dead, a huge linebacker practically tripping over her and muttering sorry as he skirted around her, drink and pile of appetizers in hand. “What did I do?”

Jackie looked around, grabbing her and pulling her out of harm’s way and over to the wall, out of the huge crush of people swirling around the ballroom. “You’ve barely talked to him since they got here,” Jackie said as soon as they were able to talk without people bumping into them from all sides. “You’ve been with that quarterback.”

“His name is Ryan and he’s very nice.”

“I know he is.” Jackie let out another huge sigh. “This isn’t coming out right, I’m sorry.”

“Jaq.” Isabelle looked her best friend in the eye. “What’s going on? What am I missing?”

“Nothing!” Jackie insisted. “It’s just that you guys have always been very close, closer to each other than to the rest of us, and maybe he feels like things are starting to change and you’re growing apart.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“No, I’ve just got a feeling.”

“Well, I’ve got to go find him.” Isabelle tried to push away from the wall but Jackie still had a tight grip on her arm. 

“Just let him go for now, Is. He’s probably with a girl or something. He’ll come around. He always does.”

Jackie’s words rang in Isabelle’s ears for the rest of her night, circling through her brain in endless loops. She knew Alex had been having a rough time since seeing Her – it was the same thing that always happened. He had a mini relapse, convincing himself that he wanted to get back together with Her, that he missed Her, that he would be better off with Her in his life. The difference this time was that he knew better.

Or at least, Isabelle hoped he did. He was strong, he was gorgeous, he was good, and he deserved better, something she told him repeatedly in the days after the incident at Space. And Jackie was right – Alex and Isabelle were closer to each other than to anyone else in the Squad. They were there for each other always, no matter what.

And she would always be there for him, had always been there for him even when she was with someone else. She was quickly realizing that Alex might be worried that if she dated someone else, the special bond of theirs might be broken. But that was crazy talk, and as soon as Alex got over himself, he would realize that too.

Everything would be fine.

At the end of the night as the ballroom was clearing out, players taking their wives and girlfriends home, going to pick up their kids, the younger ones heading to after parties at bars and clubs, Alex was still nowhere to be seen. Isabelle had sent him a few texts to no avail, her phone staying dark and silent, up until Ryan put his number in it, adding a few emojis next to his name.

Isabelle laughed as she looked at it, the Ryan followed by a football, a monkey with its hands covering its mouth, and a shooting star. “So you’ll call me?” she asked, the lights dimming around them and the skyline becoming even more prominent below them.

“I’ll call you.”

As he slipped his arms around her waist, bending down to her level and crowding into her space, his mouth covering hers, the skyline glittering around them as they stood in the middle of a deserted ballroom, all thoughts of Alex and Her and what might be coming slid from her mind. 

**What: The New York Times Holiday Party  
** **Where: The New York Times Building, 620 8th Avenue, New York, NY 10018  
** **When: Saturday, December 19, 6:00 P.M.**

“What if your roommate comes home?”

“She won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“I… ah…” Isabelle could barely think, Ryan’s hands slipping up under the bottom of her dress, his mouth traveling down the side of her neck and dangerously close to her collarbone. “Yeah, I’m…” She tipped her head back against the wall of the hallway outside her bedroom, her shoes kicked off somewhere around the front door, his suit jacket discarded shortly after. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” He pulled back, his eyes glowing somehow in the darkness of the apartment, looking down at her. “Good.” And before long, he had pulled her back under, her dress unzipped and falling to the floor as she led him backwards into her room.

It wasn’t the sun shining through the windows hours later that woke her up, or even her desperate need for coffee, but the front door slamming shut and a male voice calling her name. “Is, are you here?” 

She sat up, wiping her hand over her face with complete disregard for the fact that she had forgotten to take off her makeup the night before. Ryan was sleeping beside her, his back to her, muscles obvious and defined beneath his skin, snoring slightly. She slipped out of bed, quickly pulling on Ryan’s dress shirt and buttoning it up, the closest thing to her as she tiptoed out of her bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her with a quiet click.

“Ah, hey. What’s up?”

Alex was standing right there, looking like he had been about to barge in her room, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

She glanced behind her, making sure the door was fully shut before herding him into the kitchen and sitting him down at the table. She was all too aware of the fact that she didn’t have pants on, was clearly wearing her makeup from the night before, and had a sleeping boy in her bedroom. It almost felt like she had been caught by a parent, the way Alex was looking at her.

“Where did you go last night?”

“Like you even noticed I was gone.” Alex snorted.

“Don’t be like that.” Isabelle poured him a cup of coffee, rummaging through the fridge while trying to keep herself covered, pulling the shirt down with one hand as she bent over. “Do you want something to eat?”

Alex sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” 

She was in the middle of making him an omelette, hoping that she could get him to talk once he had some food in him, when Ryan came out of her room in just his boxers, stumbling into the kitchen and rubbing his eyes. “Hey.” He smiled at her, coming up behind her and slipping his hands around his waist, his fingers spanning her ribs, clearly not aware that she was not the only person in the room.

“Hey,” Isabelle said, turning around in his grip, spatula in hand. “Alex is—”

He beat her to the punch. “’Sup?”

Ryan jumped, hitting his head on the edge of the cabinets above the stove. “Oh, shit, hey.” He pressed a hand to his head, wincing slightly. “Hey man, how are you doing?”

Alex did the stupid little head nod all guys did to each other, jerking his chin up in the air almost imperceptibly. “Do you wanna stay and eat?” Isabelle asked, lowering her voice slightly, the conversation weird and almost stilted with Alex in the room. 

“I wish I could, but I’ve gotta get to a meeting.” He smiled down at her, matching her tone as he fiddled with the buttons on her (his) shirt. “This looks good on you.”

She couldn’t help but smile back, catching Alex’s stony expression over Ryan’s shoulder. “You’re coming tonight?”

“I’ll be there.” Ryan kissed her quickly, the moment lasting a little too fleetingly for Isabelle’s liking. He backed out of the room, nodding to Alex again, and a few minutes later Isabelle heard the front door slam shut.

Alex was still sitting in silence, waiting until Ryan was dressed and out the door to say, “He’s coming to Jackie’s party?”

Isabelle dumped his omelette onto a plate, setting it down in front of him. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, sitting down across from him and stirring milk into her coffee. “I asked him to? I don’t know.”

“So you like him.”

“What’s your problem, Alex?”

He paused, chewing his breakfast and not looking up at her. This wasn’t like him, this being sullen and not talking to her and acting like a brat. The best thing about her relationship with Alex had always been that they could talk about everything. They had never had these awkward moments where she could tell he was mad at her and didn’t know why, or vice versa. 

Finally he muttered, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Cut the bullshit. I know you better than that.”

Alex sighed, pushing his empty plate away from him, towards the center of the table. “I’ve just been in a bad mood.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

He pushed his chair back, balancing it on two legs like Isabelle was always begging him not to. She had seen him slip and fall too many times to be comfortable with it. Alex saw the look on her face and let his chair slam to the ground, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “I need you, Is.” His voice was low, almost inaudible. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

Isabelle reached forward, grabbing his hand and pushing his empty plate out of the way with the other. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex pulled back, standing up and checking his watch. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you tonight.” He was out the door without another word, leaving Isabelle sitting there in Ryan’s shirt, the remnants of his breakfast in front of her, completely alone.

It wasn’t until later that night that she actually saw Jackie, pulling her aside to give her the short version of what had happened the night before, filling her in since she hadn’t come home, spending the night at Jack’s like she did at least four days out of the week.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” Jackie was on the verge of squealing. “You hooked up with an NFL player?”

“It’s not that big a deal.” Isabelle tried to muffle her laughter, failing miserably. They were in the offices of the New York Times, dozens of writers and editors and designers milling around them. They were among the youngest in the bunch, trying not to draw attention to themselves. “I mean, Dayo’s an NFL player too, so what does that tell you?”

Jackie fake pouted. “It’s still cool, right?”

“Right.” Isabelle paused, taking a quick glance around to make sure that Ryan or none of the guys were in earshot. “I really like him.”

“That’s great, Is. That’s really great.”

“Yeah, well, Alex doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Yeah, well, Alex will get over it.”

Ryan had picked Isabelle up earlier that night, driving them both to Jackie’s work party. He had agreed to come with her almost instantly when she had asked him the night before when they were lying in bed, curtains drawn wide and moonlight coming in through the window, bathing them both in a silvery glow.

“You sure you want to?” she had asked him, both of them whispering even though there was no one else in the apartment, almost like the late hour and the moonlight turned their conversation secret and sacred. He had his head propped up on his hand, lying on his side, the blanket pushed down around his waist and revealing the hard lines of muscles crisscrossing his stomach and sides and shoulders. His other hand was tracing the line of her shoulder up to her neck and down again, sending shivers down her spine and goosebumps popping up along her skin.

“Of course I’m sure. I wanna spend time with your friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He shut her up quickly, rolling her over and pulling the blankets over top of them.

“I guess so,” she said now with a sigh, “although you know how stubborn Alex can be.”

“Don’t I though.” Jackie rolled her eyes. Jackie and Alex got in spats that were infamous among the Squad, the two of them incredibly hard-headed and always, always, always convinced that they were right and the other wrong. “You know I love him, but…”

“Yeah. Stubborn. Exactly.”

As if on cue, Alex appeared behind them. They had only been at the party for about an hour, but Isabelle could tell just looking at him that he was sloshed. And even if she was blind, she could still smell the whiskey coming off him. Isabelle knew from experience that if Alex was drinking anything harder than rum and Coke, it was going to be one hell of a night.

“Are you okay?”

“God, can you stop asking me that?” Alex put his glass down with a bang on a nearby desk, Jackie squealing and pushing papers out of the way of the spilled liquid, muttering under her breath as she did so. “I’m fucking fine.”

“I’ll take care of this.” Jackie pushed Alex out of the room, the back of his sweater gripped firmly in her hands as they turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. Isabelle started to follow them, and was stopped only by Ryan, who came up behind her and quickly made her forget there was ever a problem in the first place. 

Jackie was gone for a long time, Jack looking almost lost without her as he sat with Dayo and Jen, who had been basically inseparable since the night before. After another hour or so, Dayo and Ryan stood up, citing early practice in the morning, and left, taking Jen with them. 

Before he left, Ryan pulled Isabelle onto his lap, slipping his hand up the back of her sweater and spreading it warm across her back. “When will I see you next?”

Isabelle gripped the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair. “Whenever you want.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned up at her, pulling her closer and kissing her, his mouth warm against hers, tasting like bourbon and peppermint, which was not a combination Isabelle had thought she would like so much. They sat there for what felt like forever, Dayo and Jen hovering the background, before Isabelle finally pulled back, landing one last kiss on his cheek before he stood up, dislodging her from his lap and left. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Isabelle looked around, realizing that somewhere in the commotion, Jack had gotten off somewhere as well, leaving her all alone. She put her glass down on the table, only a half an inch of alcohol left inside, and stood up, scanning the room for her friends. She checked her phone, but there were no new messages or texts.

She crossed the room to Jackie’s desk, ignoring the people darting around her. The Times party was fun, but it was always more laidback than the rest of the work parties the Squad went to, more of an academic gathering than the rest. People were sitting around, drinking scotch, discussing current events, and Isabelle wasn’t feeling up to any stimulating conversation, her mind a little fuzzy from Ryan and the alcohol.

She sat down at Jackie’s desk, accidentally knocking the mouse of her computer and bringing up her screensaver. It was a picture of the five of them from the ski trip they had taken to Copper Mountain in Colorado a year ago. Dayo owned a house out there, one that led right out onto the slopes. The boys had spent their days snowboarding while Jackie and Isabelle sat in the hot tub, made cocktails, and watching a lot of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. The picture had been from the one time they all went out onto the slopes, Alex keeping a tight hold on Isabelle the entire time to prevent her from falling down a mountain. In the picture, Isabelle was propped up between Dayo and Alex, looking up at Alex with a huge grin on her face, red from cold and windburn.

It had been her favorite Squad vacation so far.

God, she needed some air.

Isabelle pushed herself back from Jackie’s desk, standing up and grabbing a cigarette from where she knew Jackie hid them in the bottom drawer. She made her way up a few flights of stairs towards the roof, but as she pushed the door open, she heard voices – ones that were entirely too familiar to her.

“You need to sit down. I am not going to clean up after you if you throw up again.”

“I only threw up that one time.” Alex sounded petulant, the way he got when he was really, out of control drunk. He wasn’t an angry drunk, nor a morose one (unless She was involved), but he could be entirely too childish. 

Isabelle eased out onto the roof, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could – not that any of them could hear her with the racket Alex was making. She stayed out of sight, back pressed up against the wall of the alcove, her friends on the other side of the roof. She lit her cigarette, cupping her hand around it and pulling her sweater tighter around her against the end of the year chill. Who thought this was a good idea?

“Sit down!” Jack’s voice joined the mix, and Isabelle heard a sound like someone plopping down onto concrete. “Now stay there.”

“I just miss her.”

“I know, sweetie.” Jackie was weirdly soothing. Normally when Alex was drunk and whining, especially about Her, Jackie just couldn’t be bothered. That was why Isabelle was always around to pick up the pieces. She knew she should go out there, say something, let them know she was here at least and could help, but for some reason she didn’t move. She just blew smoke out her nose, letting it burn the back of her throat, before stubbing the half-smoking cigarette out onto the brick behind her. 

“I don’t think she knows how much I want to be with her.”

It was always the same, the speech Isabelle gave Alex when he was panicking about Her. She would tell him that he could do better, that he deserved better, and that he knew it and should act like it. She was firm when the situation called for it, gentle when she had to be, and always understanding. This time, however, Jackie was doing a pretty good job.

“Well then tell her.”

Wait, what? No, don’t tell Her. Isabelle couldn’t go through that horrible relationship one more time. And Alex had been doing such a good job. She was ready to stand up and stomp over to them, give them all a piece of her mind, tell Alex to suck it up and move on, tell Jackie not to encourage his reckless and stupid behavior, tell Jack to get them all home and to be before something really bad happened.

But she didn’t. For some reason, she didn’t.

Instead, she just stood up and went home, catching a cab and riding back to her apartment in silence. It was dark when she got back, which was weird. Normally if Jackie wasn’t there, Alex was, or Dayo or Jack. It wasn’t often that she was actually legitimately all on her own.

She poured herself some Coco Pops and milk, sitting down on the couch and flipping through the channels before pulling out her phone to see if any of her friends had texted her. She was on the verge of sending Jackie a message, asking her if she needed any help when Ryan’s name popped up on her screen.

“Good night, sweetheart,” the text read. “See you tomorrow.”

Isabelle smiled, quickly typing a message back, before throwing her phone onto a cushion and curling up on her side, pulling a blanket over herself and falling asleep, The Office playing in the background, barely audible, convinced that everything would be all right in the morning.

Everything always looks better in the morning.

Right?

**What: Weil, Gotshal, & Manges LLP Presents the End of the Year Banquet  
** **Where: Trump SoHo New York, 246 Spring Street, New York, NY 10013  
** **When: Wednesday, December 23, 8:00 P.M.**

Isabelle had had a seriously long day.

She had picked up extra shifts at the restaurant, trying to distract herself from the fact that basically none of her friends had spoken a word to her in the past three days. Normally she was in constant contact with at least one or two of them, if not all four, but since the New York Times party she had heard only from Dayo, and he was too preoccupied with his new girlfriend to be much of a conversationalist. 

Jackie had been working a lot, what with all the end of the year articles the Times had planned to come out in the following week. Jack was engrossed in picking classes for the next semester, worried that he wouldn’t get the exact schedule he needed to graduate on time.

And Alex? Well, Alex had been completely M.I.A., not returning any of Isabelle’s texts or phone calls. She kept meaning to go over to his loft, show up unannounced and force them to work out their problems so that everything could go back to normal. There were a few problems with that theory, the first being that Isabelle was too tired from working to even think about getting up from the couch to go to the kitchen, and the second being that she wasn’t even sure what Alex’s problems with her were in the first place so there was no conceivable way she could convince him to fix them until she figured out what was wrong. 

Isabelle hoped she was at least still invited to Alex’s firm’s party because she was going whether he liked it or not. She had a dress, she had shoes, she had the night off, and she was fucking going. 

Ryan, on the other hand, was not. In the three days since she had met him, Isabelle had spent the majority of the time that she was not working with him. They weren’t dating, not yet at least, but she figured that was mainly because they just hadn’t had the time to talk about it. It was coming, she was pretty positive.

And she was also pretty positive that she would say yes if asked. She liked him – a lot, in fact. And he was incredibly different from the last douchebag she had let into her life, so much the opposite that she wasn’t even that nervous about dating again, about letting herself open up to someone and give them the power to hurt her.

Ryan wouldn’t do that.

Isabelle got ready for the banquet by herself, Jackie over at Jack’s making sure he showed up in a slightly presentable fashion. The firm party was without a doubt the fanciest holiday party of the five, even more so than Dayo’s. In fact, Isabelle was breaking out the Louboutins, the only pair she owned and the bright spot of her closet. So Alex had better appreciate it.

Realistically she knew a party populated by some of the most famous (and infamous) contract and sports lawyers in the city was not the time or place to confront her best friend, but she hoped they could at least get a short conversation in. She missed him. She wanted him back. It was as simple as that.

How could he argue?

Isabelle pulled up outside Trump SoHo, handing her keys off to the valet and spending a second looking up at the huge high rise, adjusting her floor length dress around her to make sure it was falling just right.

“Isabelle!” Dayo appeared behind her, taking her elbow and escorting her into the lobby. Jen was nowhere to be seen, but Dayo answered her question before she even asked it. “She’s got a work thing, unfortunately.”

“Y’all seem pretty close.”

“Yeah, it’s…” He smiled, as if completely unaware that Isabelle was there, lost in his own thoughts.

“Good?”

“Good.” A pause. “And you? How’s Ryyyyy-an?” His tone was teasing.

“Like you don’t already know.” She rolled her eyes, stepping into the elevator as it stopped in front of them, shooting them up, up, up to the top floor. Another day, another ballroom – when had this become Isabelle’s life? “By the way, have you talked to Alex at all?”

Dayo looked at her, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowned in confusion. “Not much, he’s been kind of AWOL. Why, is something wrong?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. I just… I haven’t heard from him in a few days, and I—”

“Isabelle, I have to talk to you!”

They were barely out of the elevator before Jackie descended on her, the black silk of her dress smooth against Isabelle’s skin. She was pulled away from Dayo instantly, waving goodbye to him over her shoulder as Jackie practically dragged her the crowd of lawyers and towards the bathroom.

“Jackie, what’s going on?” Isabelle pushed her off once they were through the bathroom door, taking a quick glance in the mirror to make sure her hair was still in place, pinned up where it should be, the rest dangling loosely around her shoulders and falling in waves down her back.

“Have you talked to Alex?”

“No, he’s been completely avoiding me. What – is he okay?”

“He’s been…” Jackie paused. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s not not okay, if that makes sense. I don’t know. You know him better than I do. You’re his person.”

Isabelle smiled at that. Her person. Alex was the person she went to when something really good or really bad happened. He was the first person she wanted to talk to when she had news. He was the person she woke up next to, fell asleep on at the end of the night. He was the person she could always count on no matter what.

They would get through this, whatever this was.

“I have to talk to him.” Isabelle pushed out of the bathroom, leaving Jackie and her protests in the dust behind her, the door swinging shut.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” she muttered to herself, scanning the room and looking for him, knowing he would be towering head and shoulders over the rest of the lawyers. She saw Hannah, Alex’s stalker paralegal. She saw Dayo, talking to Jack over by the buffet table. She saw Jackie, rushing towards them and grabbing Jack’s arm like she was in crisis or something. 

Well, she could grab a drink first and then figure it out.

“White wine please?” She leaned across the bar, dropping a few dollars into the fishbowl that served as a tip jar. “Thank you.”

Isabelle had barely taken a sip before something caught her eye – there he was. 

And he was with Her. Isabelle blinked. There was no way she could be seeing this right. But sure enough, there they were. She had a drink in her hand and was looking up at Alex the way Isabelle usually did, stars in Her eyes. What the hell was She doing here? Isabelle spent five seconds fuming about how she could’ve been given a heads up before realizing that was probably why Jackie had dragged her to the bathroom two seconds in.

Isabelle downed her wine, choosing to ignore the fact that wine always gave her a wicked hangover, and pushed her glass back across the bar, making her way over to the balcony surrounding the top of the hotel. She pushed her way through the glass doors, ignoring the couples scattered around, brisk air winding in between them. She leaned out over the railing, looking around at the city.

New York City had always been her dream, ever since she was a little kid growing up in small town Wisconsin. When she was little, she had wanted to be an actress and a model and a singer, all roads eventually leading to the Big Apple. And when she had finally decided on culinary school, it was a no brainer where she would be attending.

She was lucky to have found the Squad, she knew that. Jackie was her chummy, her roommate, her rock – always there for a late night cry or an early morning cup of coffee before they headed their separate ways. Dayo was her big brother, keeping her safe from annoying guys at the bar and all the evils the world might throw her way. Jack was the one who could always make her laugh no matter what, whether she was having a bad day or had just come off a twelve hour shift. And Alex was her best friend.

She turned around, ready to go inside and find him when she spotted him again, still with Her. He was leaning down close to Her, talking into Her and obscuring Her face. Isabelle just stood there, watching them, fully aware that it was a little creepy. And when it all got a little bit too much to take, watching him with Her, she turned back around, surveying the skyline and pulling a cigarette out of her clutch.

She took a couple of deep breaths, the cold air burning her lungs much more than a cigarette would have when she heard his voice behind her.

“Drop the smoke and no one gets hurt.”

Isabelle looked down at the cigarette in her hands, turning it slowly before she slipped it back into her bag, turning around.

“So you’re still alive then.”

Alex stepped closer to her, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it around her shoulders. As much as she wanted to be mad at him, it was fucking cold.

“Thanks.”

Alex took a step up next to her, leaning onto the railing and clasping his hands in front of him. “Pretty, right?”

She stood next to him, jacketed elbow barely brushing his. “Something like that.”

“You’re mad at me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I do.” Alex looked right at her, illuminated on one side from the light of the ballroom behind them, the other side of his face bathed in darkness. The sounds of the street drifted up to them from what felt like miles below, honks of horns and shouts and Christmas music floating up through the air. Snow was falling lightly, dusting the buildings in a glittery, white powder.

It would be a perfect moment, if not for the fact that Alex was an idiot.

“You really, really don’t.” Isabelle wasn’t able to meet his eye, keeping her gaze trained on the snowflakes falling in front of them, catching on her eyelashes. “If you’re happy, that’s what counts, isn’t it? It’s your decision. If you want to be with Her—”

“Wait, what?” The surprise painting Alex’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “You think I want to be with Her?”

“Well… yeah. I mean why is She here otherwise?”

“Because She came with one of my coworkers.” He shrugged. “Should’ve seen it coming honestly. She’s always trying dumb shit like this.”

Isabelle was at a complete loss for words at this point.

“She’s not the one for me, and you know it. Or at least you should.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the one for me.”

Well, that was unexpected.

A cold breeze whipped around them, forcing Isabelle to pull Alex’s jacket even tighter around her. Words were still escaping her, so Alex carried on, apparently unaware of the fact that her brain was exploding. “Look, I know I’ve been an asshole for the last couple days. But seeing Her, and then seeing you with Ryan… I don’t know, it just all kind of made me realize that relationships don’t have to suck. They don’t have to be completely shit like mine was with Her. And then when you were with that stupid quarterback… I don’t know, it’s like something snapped, and I just realized… you’re the one that I want, as cliché as that sounds.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything, okay? I mean, it’s not like… well, this is a big change, for sure. Obviously. And it’s not going to affect our friendship or anything, so don’t worry about that.”

“Alex.”

“If you don’t want me, you don’t want me. But I’m sure.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know.”

Finally everything was starting to sink in, and her first instinct was to hit Alex on the chest as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard. He grabbed her arm as she did so, his hand wrapping all the way around her wrist and pulling her a little closer to him. “What was that for?”

Isabelle took a deep breath, looking up at him, the city lights glinting off his eyes. Her hand was still on his chest and she flattened out her fingers, feeling his heart racing under her palm. “You couldn’t have told me all of this sooner?”

“Well, no.”

“You asshole.”

“I know.”

And then he was kissing her, exactly like the night they were in Space, except not. Because this time Isabelle wasn’t worried about whether the right person was seeing them. She wasn’t worried about whether or not her ex was wandering around. She wasn’t worrying about anything. Because in front of her and touching her and all around her was Alex. 

Kissing her.

Holy shit, she was kissing Alex.

The city was lit up around them, snow coming down even harder, covering them in powder as Alex brought his hands up to her face, cupping her cheeks and working his tongue into her mouth. He was warm against her, smelled like cinnamon and sugar and Christmas. 

“Such an asshole,” she whispered again as he pulled back, a huge smile overtaking her face as she looked up at him, seeing him in a completely different light but knowing that he was still her Alex.

“I’m your asshole,” he shrugged. “If that helps.”

“And cheesy too, huh.”

“Only for you.”

And he kissed her again, the party carrying on behind them, city life all as it should be below them, just them out on the balcony, his heart beating under her hand.


End file.
